


[ and never let me go ]

by maridoll



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Gen, also character death but whats already in canon, ive always wanted to use the gen category aha, lil bit of canon veer-off, slight mentions to emotional abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 03:42:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9217064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maridoll/pseuds/maridoll
Summary: “Does this mean I get access to your tragic backstory?”Sei felt his lips quirk up just a bit before he let his head fall onto whatever sort of body part was there. Kouki’s shoulder, possibly. He took a moment to gather himself before replying.“I guess I haven’t shared much leading up to my Teiko days, though calling it tragic is a bit much.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> this was based off of a sentence prompt, then it veered off as i went to explore characters. aomine and akashi are characters i've always wanted to write a char study piece with those two, bc they have such in depth traits to be mentioned and expanded upon. 
> 
> this isn't exactly that, though i did try and expand upon a headcanon some in the fandom consider. i needed a distraction today, so i typed it up and here we are aha. just um, if you need to hear it then here: not all abuse is physical. take care of yourself.

“It’s been another year.”

They were buried underneath blankets in the main room, tangled limbs curled into a corner of the couch. A stay-in night. Peaceful, quiet . . . nice. It was nice.

Seijuurou forced his eyes open, looking sleepily over to his beloved. A moment passed, his attention now grasped, then-

A quiet sort of smile flooded Kouki's face, decorated a gentle warm in the dim lighting. Had he been a little less tired, it might have had a chance of becoming a smirk. But alas. “Does this mean I get access to your tragic backstory?”

Sei felt his lips quirk up just a bit before he let his head fall onto whatever sort of body part was there. Kouki’s shoulder, possibly. He took a moment to gather himself before replying.

“I guess I haven’t shared much leading up to my Teiko days, though calling it tragic is a bit much.”

The smile hadn’t left Kouki’s face, nor had his eyes dipped away from Sei, as he saw while rolling his head to the side, somber brown meeting soothing ruby. If possible, Kouki’s position relaxed more, sinking them both further into the cushion. “Only if you want.”

In response, Sei lowered his eyes, dissolving the tension and strain of looking up, slightly, and shook his head.

“I’d be glad to.”

-

 

The Akashi household was strange. It was a different foreign environment with a lackluster atmosphere, all inside the bustling third ward of Tokyo. It had been contained, airtight and thoroughly observed -that is, until Shiori Otsuo bounded through the lone entryway, metaphorically tearing down the set-in-stone standards, removing bits of ingrown ivy to reveal the landscape beyond.

And then, she was also an Akashi.

And then there was Seijuurou.

The prim and proper area of the Akashis did not deplete after such instances. Not even after four became three, and Masaomi claimed head of the household. It might have lessened a bit, but then strain to remain complete was enforced. Victory was everything.

So, as an Akashi, Seijuurou was put to work at a young age. Lessons were taught and retained, every day of every week. He was the heir to an important corporation, after all.

But, because Shiori was there, the youngest Akashi was also educated in other matters. Voice and instruments, dress and etiquette. And, most surprisingly, sports.

Masaomi stressed horseback was good enough exercise. Shiori countered with the importance of teamwork. Masaomi chose tennis, saying it limited strenuousness. Shiori argued that although it could be performed with a partner, another objective was to make friends.

Masaomi liked Shiori. He’d married her, after all. So, with recognition to this, he conceded.

They agreed football was too rough, and often led to damages in the legs. Swimming only had the relay aspect, and they both shrugged that off in fear Seijuurou wouldn’t agree to that. Volleyball would be too time-consuming, most things only performing with others could accomplish. They needed him to focus on studies as well. Baseball might have been preferential, had it not been an outdoors sport. That left too many unknown variables. Rugby was nnon-considerable.

Which meant, at the end, basketball had been the conclusion. Seij could pick it up by himself and gain interest, team play was vital to success, and physical contact was frowned upon. A near-perfect solution.

It was his mother who gave him his first basketball. She encouraged him to take a bit out of his day each time to try it out. And so he did, when he grew a bit tired of his studies -though he’d never admit that. It was nice. A refreshing change of pace, of routine.

One day, Seij managed to convince his parents to journey to Kyoto for a basketball game. Masaomi had business to attend to that day, but Shiori was all too happy to comply. They made a plan, and the morning of gameday, headed out to board the train.

“Ne, Seij, are you excited?” Shiori asked, situating her son in his seat. His little nod confirmed it, and she let a giggle spill from her lips. “I’m glad.”

Not even an hour into the trip, all the lights flickered off. Then came the crash.

Shiori Akashi was pronounced dead at the scene, along with numerous others. Masaomi met Seijuurou at the nearest hospital. He’d sustained a minor gash on the side of his head.

Masaomi was in shock. Fair, but there were also thoughts running through his mind.

Shiori was gone. She was gone, he decided, because of a frivolous, recreational trip she’d gone on to appease someone else.

That someone else was getting staples put in. It was also his only son. Injured, and his mother killed, on an unnecessary travel. Because of him.

Seijuurou was not left unscarred as well. He remembered, faintly, that he’d clung to his mother when the lights suddenly flicked out in their compartment, and how when the rumbling started, she’d encircled him in her grip. She’d sustained the most damage out of the two, protecting him. He blamed himself, somewhat, too young to understand any different.

That’s why, when his father didn’t show much concern for him, Seijuurou hadn’t let it affect him. But then it grew.

Masaomi was never depressed. Not clinically. He had a company to maintain, a house to upkeep . . . a son to raise.

He did, however, stop talking to Seijuurou for a bit. You couldn’t call it neglect, not with so many others around. He just claimed busy with work, everyone understood that. It wasn’t until he heard Seijuurou had tried to trash his basketball that he reacted.

He was at a loss. So young, his only conclusion was that his mother was dead because of a basketball game. Whereas Masaomi’s thinking was delusional, Seijuurou’s was blinded by the fact of inexperience. Granted, he still enjoyed basketball. But it had still caused his mother her life, so he decided to be done with it. He had asked a member of housekeep to dispose of the ball, then began throwing all related things into a box. A few armbands, some socks, a sleeve. He figured the shoes could function normally, so, those stayed.

Masaomi came in just as he was closing the lid. He’d already glimpsed at the contents, though. 

Seij turned to fix his father with tired eyes. Then he caught sight of the basketball in his arms.

Masaomi watched as his son fumbled to catch the ball he’d thrown. “You're giving up,” he began, fixing the box with a stare. “There’s no reason to quit, Seijuurou. None. I will not condone it in this house. You will continue, and you will strive to -no, you will  _ be _ the best. Are we clear?”

Akashi could only nod bleakly. He was forced to unpack the box, to practice, and finally, he had his father’s attention.

But was it actually a good thing?

Around the basketball, the endless physical exertion, the subjects to learn once more began to pile up. This time, for mastery purposes. And once he got through mastering one topic, three would follow to replace it. It was grueling, exhausting work.

And throughout it all, Masaomi remained indifferent to Seijuurou’s success, stating it was expected, a routine even.

Akashi began to pick up things on his own to try and please his father. Basketball became an expense, a chore, yet he still did it. Masaomi returned to business, to work, to ignorance all the way until the funeral.

It was a smaller-than-expected affair. Both Akashis wanted this over as swiftly as possible, ready to move past the grief. However, they might’ve been too self-secluded, as no one noticed when one of Akashi’s eyes turned gold.

Seij felt calm. As calm as one could e in this situation. He’d been so busy lately he’d forgotten about his sadness. And then, his consciousness had taken a back seat, like he’d gone underwater. All his thoughts and emotions dulled. It was easy to go along with it.

Everything became more of a reprieve after that. Seij worked more on basketball, finding it far easier than work. He could let his mind go a little, fall into a rhythm, make use of the freedom his mother had given him. But then his father decided to play hot and cold.

Basketball was suddenly for when his grades were good, when he was maintaining school. Then, when it seemed as if Seij had had enough of the sport, he was suddenly forced into hour upon hour of grueling practice.

He was too busy. The calm couldn’t remain, couldn’t wash over him. Eventually, his eyes faded back to their original color.

He figured out the workings of this new household. He cut out some sleep to manage his ever-busy schedule. He only spoke when spoken to. He learned to neutralize his feelings, kill them, even, to be on top. He held everything to a perfect standard, aimed for the victory his father always strived to have, and slowly moved the focus away from himself.

And then came middle school.

-

 

Suddenly, Sei felt arms encircle the crown of his head, pulling his closer. Ruby eyes popped open with surprise, the owner not realizing they’d been shut.

“I didn’t mean to make you upset,” Kouki whispered near his ear. The sticky wetness on his cheeks began to enter his mind. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled, except it came out breathless.

“Do you like basketball, Sei?”

He had to pause, take a moment to think up a reply. Then, “Yes. With the friends I made and the experience I gained from such it became a lot more to me.” He slowly rocked his head back into the touch.

“That’s good. And . . the other?” 

“Gone, after the Jabberwock game.” He yawned, no longer able to contain it. “I became both my own strength and my own weakness, at that point,” he murmured.

Kouki smiled, humming in understanding. “Sei,” he said quietly. “You should go to sleep.”

“Yeah. Okay. Goodnight, Kouki.”

“Night, Sei.”


End file.
